


Your Money Or Your Life

by aquilaofarkham



Category: AC3 - Fandom, Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, Highway Man, Negotiations, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Assassin's Creed III, Post-Revolution, Robbery, highwayman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor runs into a highwayman but instead of trying to flee or fight, he instead decides to help the man and offer him a chance to start a better life for himself in the Homestead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Money Or Your Life

The horse made its way down the winding road at a slow pace. With every step, Connor couldn’t help but turn his head and look around at the surrounding trees, his hands tightening their grip on the reins. It wasn’t always like him to act so cautiously during a simple ride in the frontier, but the early morning mist coupled with dark grey skies ahead made Connor feel uneasy.

He did however have a legitimate reason for his suspicion. The roads of America, particularly those far from cities, towns, or even villages, were dangerous; always had been. But after the Revolution faded away, they only managed to get worse. Wild animals weren’t the problem. The problem was with people.

Connor had a feeling it would happen sooner or later. During the past few years since the British left with their tails tucked between their legs, the people of America tumbled into a state of confusion. No one, not even those known as “the founding fathers” knew what to do with their newfound country. Winning was hard, governing even harder. Confusion led to frustration, which then led to broken dreams, not to mention broken promises. Businesses went bankrupt; citizens lost their livelihoods, whilst more and more people were being forced off their lands, having to rely on rations in order to survive.

Desperate times always called for desperate measures. Most brought their anger directly to congress. Others took it out on their fellow friends and neighbours. Despite being outlawed in most states, the rate of duels went up. Other illegal acts such as theft, arson, racketeering, and trafficking unfortunately became commonplace.

Connor was a very busy man following the war. Congress on the other hand never seemed to act in favour of protecting certain human rights. He knew they cared more about guarding their molasses, rum, and money. Meanwhile, “the law” lost nearly all of its relevance, even more so than it already had.

Holding his head up high, he continued further along the road. On rides like these, Connor made sure to stay alert as much as possible. Even his horse was feeling a bit skittish. At one point, it needed a little bit of coaxing to keep moving.

“Easy there,” Connor said in Kanien’kéha as he gently patted its neck. “It is alright.” They then arrived at a much denser part of the frontier. The mist was still heavy while a cool breeze blew past them, rustling the leaves. After that, it became unnaturally quiet. Connor could hear everything, dirt and gravel being kicked up by hooves, his own heartbeat, every single thing around him. Including the sound of a branch breaking off in the distance.

Connor pulled on the reins as his horse carefully slowed down. He examined the surrounding trees, looking for anything strange or out of place. It immediately occurred to him that he was being followed. Not the first time it happened to him, but he nonetheless remained vigilant.

A couple minutes of tense silence passed, causing Connor to think it was just an animal or a fellow traveler who wanted nothing to do with him. Though it wasn’t enough to make him completely drop his guard.

Just then a loud shot suddenly rang throughout the woods. Connor’s horse went into a state of panic, spinning around in circles, before he finally managed to calm it down. That was when they came face to face with their stalker: a man, also on horseback, wearing a black cloak, tricorn hat, and mouth cover. In his gloved hand was a long pistol aimed towards the sky; smoke was still drifting out of its barrel.

The highwayman moved closer and closer, holstering his gun while withdrawing a secondary one from his belt. Connor didn’t run or charge towards him. All he could do for the moment was wait and watch as the highwayman took aim directly at his face.

“Hands up,” he demanded. Connor did as he was told, “Get off, on the ground. Now.” Again, he did exactly that, all while trying to come up with a plan.

“Keep listening to me, and this’ll go much easier for the both of us. I said keep yer hands up!”

“I am. Calm down.” At a closer glance, Connor noticed how much the hand holding the pistol was shaking. Was it out of excitement? Nervousness? Anger? All three?

“Haud yer wheesht. All I want is yer money.”

“I do not have much with me.”

“Dinnae matter to me. But if ye try anything stupid, I’ll take yer life as well. Understand?”

Connor sized him up and down before nodding. The highwayman might have been tall but it was his cloak that made him seem much larger while his mask and tricorn only added to his intimidating stature. However, underneath everything was a skinny, lanky figure. With his own body weight and muscles, Connor could have easily knocked him out. Yet he made the wise decision of heeding the man’s warning.

Reaching for his leather pouch attached close to the saddle, Connor looked back at the highwayman. “Is this the first time you have done this?”

“Whit? No, course not. I told ye to be quiet.”

“Then you have done this before.” Trying to start a conversation, especially while at gunpoint, was a heavy risk but for the most part, Connor knew what he was doing. He just had to remain calm and hope his attacker would do the same.

“Did ye not hear whit I just said?” The man snapped, getting off his horse. As he stared down the barrel of the pistol, Connor relaxed.

“You will not kill me.”

“How the hell can ye be so sure of that?”

“Because you would taken your second shot by now. And you would not have wasted your first one just to warn me. You keep using fear instead of taking action.”

“Yer testing my patience,” the highwayman said after a pause.

“Am I right?”

“Just give me the money, ye fool.”

“Fine.” Connor’s hand went into the pouch and emerged with a bag of coins in his palm. He held it up, proving to the highwayman he wasn’t lying. “Have you killed other men over money like this?”

“I’ve killed men over money that was worth far more than yer pitiful amount.”

“If you have, then why go through all this trouble for me? Those threats, warnings, and intimidation over a few coins; it cannot be worth it.”

“Ma reasons are ma own. I don’t have to discuss them with ye or anyone else.” Connor knew the highwayman was getting more and more frustrated yet despite his repeated threats, the gun remained unfired. Why?

“Then what are your reasons? Why are you going this? I will not judge or debate with you. I only want to know. Maybe then I can help you.”

The two men stood off, neither of them making the first move, until the highwayman took a couple steps forward. “Ye need to give me a much better reason as to why I should spare ye.”

“I know what it is like to take someone’s life, to have that weigh on your conscious.”

“Ye do? Then why do ye want to help me?”

“I know it may seem odd, but my profession and my capacity for showing compassion are not mutually exclusive.”

That seemed to hit a nerve within the highwayman. With his hand still shaking, he lowered the pistol, as well as his mouth cover. He seemed much younger than Connor originally expected.

“Did ye fight in the war, sir?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Then ye know whit those Patriots did to the other side, to their families. They didnae want to fight. All they wanted was to make a new hame. Most soldiers ne’er even volunteered. I didnae. Of course none of that mattered to the Patriots. It ne’er once crossed their minds as they burned down hooses, ransacked businesses, and slaughtered livestock.”

Connor nodded his head in solemn agreement. The redcoats committed many atrocities during the war, but so did the Patriots. In many cases, they were much worse, particularly once the fighting stopped.

He remembered hearing about how Samuel Adams his supporters tortured a Loyalist named John Malcolm by covering him in tar and feathers before parading him around the Boston docks. Despite the Englishman’s frequent public rants and fights, the whole ordeal still made Connor sick to his stomach. Yet when confronted, Adams tried to talk his way out of it.

“The people of the colonies have and are still going through far worse,” he said. It wasn’t the first time Adams responded in such a dismissive, privileged manner and as Connor found out much later, it certainly wasn’t the last.

“Is that what happened to you? To your family?” He asked the highwayman. “Is that why you are doing this?”

“Ye said ye wouldn’t judge.”

“I am not. I promise.”

“… we were able to salvage the ferm. For a little while at least,” he continued. “Grew back our crops. Gave us food for a while. It wasn’t enough, though. We needed money. I… I haven’t told them about… about all this. I’m not proud of it. Not of anything I did.”

As the highwayman paused, Connor noticed some tears welling up in his eyes. They weren’t of sadness but instead of anger and most of all, frustration. “I suppose I was the foolish one in the end. Thinking I would find an honest job in Boston, New York, hell, even New Jersey. No one wants to hire a supposed former Loyalist. ‘Specially if he’s a Scottish barbarian.”

With a gloved hand, the highwayman wiped his nose and eyes before letting out a deep breath. “Ye wanted to know ma story,” he said. “There it is.” Something about the ashamed tone in his voice made Connor feel even more empathetic towards the man.

“What is your name?”

“Maccailín. Aibne Maccailín. Ye can go on yer way, sir. No point in trying to rob you now.”

Connor knew exactly what to say to that. “I will not give you my money. But I can offer you something better.”

“Whit?”

“How big is your family?”

“Well… there’s maself, ma wife, and four little ones. Two lassies, two laddies.”

“Do you still farm?”

“Not anymore. But I… I tried getting a job making things. It’s whit I’m good at.”

“What sort of things?”

“Things made out of wood. Wheelbarrows, furniture, even toys for the bairns. That’s whit I was back in Edinburgh, a carver. Whit exactly are you trying to offer me?”

“A new beginning for you and your family, hopefully a better one. I live in a community known as the Davenport Homestead.”

“Ye a laird?”

“No, I am not.” Connor scoffed quietly. “I can however give your wife and children an extra plot of land to start farming again. It is not very large, but it should be enough for a few crops and animals. We could also use a woodcarver.”

“And the catch?”

“None. Think of this as an opportunity for you to start your own business, provide for your family, and give back to the community. You would never have to resort to highway robberies ever again.”

Aibne went silent, thinking long and hard about the offer. “Show me this homestead of yers. Then I’ll make ma decision.”

“Of course.”

“Still, ye seem like a generous man… whit’s yer name?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton. You may also call me Connor.”

“Lovely names. Oneida? Onondaga?”

“Kanien’kehá:ka,” Connor replied with a smile. Once the two men were back on their horses, they rode on, side-by-side.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to know more about Scottish soldiers during the American Revolution and John Malcolm, I highly recommend reading through these two articles:   
> https://allthingsliberty.com/2013/10/scotland-american-revolution/  
> http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-worst-parade-to-ever-hit-the-streets-of-boston-12934258/?no-ist  
> And credit for this whole prompt goes to capt-flint.tumblr.com


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